


Never Let You Go

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Love Confessions, Anal Fingering, Beta Shift, Clubbing, Coming In Pants, Dancing, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Getting Together, Knotting, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Making Out, Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms, Post Season/Series 6A, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Riding, Rutting, Stiles Stilinski Wears Makeup, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 23:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18788896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “Take me home,” Stiles told him, already starting to walk back towards the door, pulling Peter with him.Peter threw his head back and laughed, and Stiles didn’t deny himself the temptation of leaning forward and nipping at his jaw. When Peter looked back at him, his eyes were soft—the way they were every time he looked at Stiles recently—and he cupped Stiles’ face in his hands to pull him into a sweet kiss. “I would love to.”





	Never Let You Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by two of Harry’s _amazing_ artworks! Check them out:  
> [Ride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965885)  
> [Morning After](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976484)
> 
> Harry is so insanely talented, so this story is a little birthday fic for him! Go check out [his Tumblr](https://hd-hale.tumblr.com/) and wish him a good day! 
> 
> This work is set after the Wild Hunt, in some AU where Peter and Stiles cling to each other after coming back from the forgotten, and things (like feelings) obviously develop between them. Unbeta'd.

The pounding bass of the music sung through Stiles’ body as he swayed his hips, moving along with the beat. It wasn’t often that he got out to the  _ Jungle _ , but he wasn’t going to let anything stop him during his last week in town. Now that school was done with he didn’t have to worry about homework, and he’d purposefully left his phone at home so the supernatural couldn’t bother him. He wasn’t letting tonight go to waste. 

Humming along with the melody, he danced and danced, letting the atmosphere of the club clear his head and carry away his worries. He was nothing but the swirling mass of bodies, high on the adrenaline that came with being so free. He let his worries drain away, swallowed up by the heavy air and flashing lights, not worried about the supernatural or his dad or what was going to happen when he went to college. In that moment, he was nothing but his racing heart and the swaying of his hips.

Someone pressed up behind him, firm chested, and Stiles closed his eyes as he raised his hands above his head and ground back into their warmth. The stranger’s hands settled nicely on his hips and tugged him back. Stiles allowed it, enjoying the stranger’s bulk, not looking as he wrapped a hand around their thick, thick neck. 

They danced together easily, bodies moving in sync. It was perfect, and Stiles enjoyed how well they fit together. The stranger’s hands were wide where they were firmly holding his hips, keeping them pressed together, and Stiles shivered pleasantly when stubble scrapped against the back of his throat.

Stiles turned, curious, and he laughed, overjoyed, when he met a pair of familiar eyes. They flashed brightly in the dark light of the club, the electric blue a threat that Stiles knew well, and his lips twisted into a happy smile as his own flashed back, bright white in the darkness. 

Peter pulled them closer together and Stiles went easily, letting the wolf press their bodies together as they continued to sway with the music. Peter was  _ good _ at dancing, and Stiles felt familiar heat rise within his belly as his cock stirred.

“You look lovely, darling,” Peter’s voice was low enough that Stiles had to lean further into his space to hear him. Stiles’ lips twisted up, and he let them ghost along Peter’s cheek as he answered.

“Thank you,” he told him, knowing that Peter was referring to the liner smudged around his eyes and clear gloss he’d coated his lips with. It wasn’t a lot, definitely not the most makeup he’d worn, but he had wanted to keep things simple tonight. “You look pretty good yourself.”

Peter’s shirt was sheer, and Stiles could easily see the muscular lines of his chest and his eyes followed the smattering of hair down the line it made over his abdomen. His jeans were skin tight, practically painted on, and Stiles grinned happily when Peter slipped a thigh between Stiles’ legs. He ground forward easily, rolling his hips in a smooth glide that pulled a moan from his throat, his hardening cock filling up even further. 

“Oh, you sound just lovely, sweetheart,” Peter purred, and Stiles grinned as he pressed in for a kiss. Peter made a little noise that sounded surprised, but he didn't pull away. He kissed back, sliding their closed mouths together as Stiles continued to grind into his thigh as he danced his fingers up Peter’s chest to his neck, emboldened by the pounding bass and the hazy atmosphere of the club. 

He slipped his fingers under the hem of Peter’s shirt, tracing over his collarbones as he let his mouth fall open. Peter was quick to lick inside, and Stiles let their tongues brush together as he hooked his hands around Peter’s neck to pull him even closer. 

When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavily and Peter’s eyes were still shining. Stiles grinned again, dragging his hands over Peter’s shoulders and down his arms to tangle their fingers together, grinning with the knowledge that the action would leave behind thick trails of his scent. 

“Take me home,” Stiles told him, already starting to walk back towards the door, pulling Peter with him. 

Peter threw his head back and laughed, and Stiles didn’t deny himself the temptation of leaning forward and nipping at his jaw. When Peter looked back at him, his eyes were soft—the way they were every time he looked at Stiles recently—and he cupped Stiles’ face in his hands to pull him into a sweet kiss. “I would love to.” 

* * *

Peter didn’t live in an underground network of caves hidden deep in the woods, but rather in Beacon Hill’s most prestigious apartment building. Stiles had already known this, of course, but the elevator ride up to the penthouse didn’t feel like any they’d shared in the past. They kept their hands to themselves but they didn’t bother advertising their eyes, drinking each other in with heavy gazes in a way neither of them had ever allowed themselves before.

Peter’s eyes were glowing a hazy blue, his breathing heavy, no doubt sucking in their mixed arousal. Stiles was half hard, had been since Peter had pressed against him back in the club, and he couldn’t help the way his lips were twisted up into a smile. Peter smiled back at him and Stiles caught the briefest hint of fang, and he couldn’t hold in the groan that slipped past his lips. 

The elevator dinged, saving Stiles from doing something silly like dropping to his knees right there and then, and Peter held out a hand to gesture him through the door first. Stiles made sure to press close when he did, trailing his fingers over the hard planes of Peter’s belly and tucking his fingers into little artful tears that lined the bottom of his shirt. 

Stiles unlocked Peter’s door with nothing more than a thought. He’d been the one to lay the wards, after all, and walking into Peter’s apartment felt like coming home. Since the Hunt, they had spent so much time together, holed up in Peter’s apartment as they processed being forgotten by everyone they knew. It had been hard for both of them, each of them assaulted with memories they’d rather keep buried, all from another time they’d been forgotten by those who they loved. 

It was in this apartment that Stiles had first learned that the Nogitsune had left behind more than just memories, but also a flickering warmth inside his chest, a forest fire where there used to only be a spark. It was here that he’d learned to control it, learned to be comfortable in the foreign skin the Nogitsune left him with. 

It was in this apartment that he and Peter had become pack, where their easy friendship had turned heated, layered with tension. Tension they were finally resolving.

Stiles pulled himself from his musings when Peter stepped up behind him, so, so warm where he was pressing their bodies together. Peter’s warmth was something he loved, always cold since he woke up in his new skin. It wasn’t unusual for them to be cuddled together in the apartment, but this was so different from anything they’d done before. 

“Where is that pretty head of yours, sweetheart?” Peter pressed the words into Stiles’ neck, lips catching against skin and making him shiver.

Stiles leaned back into him, letting Peter hold up his weight. “Just thinking about how much I’ll miss this place,” he said, his lips curving into a sad smile. Peter’s hands tightened on his hips, going so tight the grip stung, and he growled softly. 

“Am I not entertaining enough to keep your mind occupied?” Peter asked, though there was an edge to his voice that Stiles didn’t like. He turned in the circle of Peter’s arms, trailing his hands up and over his chest, enjoying the firmness under his palms as he cupped Peter’s neck. He knew just how much trust he was being given, and he smiled softly even as he used his hold to pull Peter down into a kiss. 

It felt so good, to finally be able to touch. It had been so, so long since they first started dancing around each other, since their easy friendship turned into something  _ more _ —something filled with heated gazes and lingering touches and entirely too much tension. Neither of them had done another about it for so many reasons, but all of the reasons that had held them back didn’t seem to matter with the knowledge that Stiles was  _ leaving _ .

The kiss dragged on, their mouths sliding together in an easy rhythm. Stiles had made out with a handful of people at the  _ Jungle _ , but none of them had kissed him like Peter was. Peter kissed him like he was laying  _ claim _ , like he was trying to  _ consume _ him. His hands swept over Stiles’ body as they made out, sliding over the curve of his ass and pressing into the small of his back and slipping under his t-shirt. 

He pressed as close as he could, trying to melt into Peter’s body until they were one. Stiles was nearly overwhelmed, his heart racing as his belly continued to heat with arousal, blood rushing into his groin and filling until he was hard and throbbing. He pressed even closer, rolling his hips into the meat of Peter’s thigh and moaning at the delicious friction. 

Peter grabbed his ass, and Stiles moaned when he tugged, lifting Stiles off the ground. He could do nothing but wrap his legs around Peter’s waist and grind into him, his entire body going taut as his orgasm rushed out of him. He shook through it, shooting spurt after spurt of warm release into his boxers as he panted into Peter’s mouth and rolled his hips in helpless little thrusts that left him breathless.

Eventually it was too much, and the head of his dick was too sensitive to keep rubbing against the scratchy material of his boxers. He whined into the kiss Peter had pressed to his lips, but the man didn’t loosen his hold. “It’s too much,” he gasped, resting his their foreheads together and turning his head to the side so he could suck in a much-needed breath of air. 

“Darling,” Peter’s voice was all growl, and Stiles felt how deeply he breathed in. “You smell  _ delicious _ .”

“S-sorry,” he panted, trying to ignore the way his stomach was beginning to twist with unpleasant embarrassment. Peter was still holding him, was actually walking them through his apartment, so Stiles tried his best not to worry that Peter might be upset that he came so fast.

“Sweetheart, that was more than fine,” Peter told him, and Stiles let out a breath of relief. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get it up again soon, no?”

Peter let him down slowly, though the hands on his ass kept them completely pressed together. He shivered at feeling so much of Peter pressed against him, and it was so better than it had been at the club. Here, in the safety of Peter’s apartment, he could focus on exactly how it felt to be pressed so close, Peter’s warm puffs of breath hitting the side of his face. 

“Y-yeah,” he agreed, his voice shaking when Peter grabbed fistfuls of his ass. 

The overhead light in Peter’s bedroom was off, but the side lamp was on and it cast the room in a nice, low light. Peter looked gorgeous like this, more attractive than Stiles had ever thought him before, and he couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat as he took in the man before him. This was something he’d been waiting for for  _ so _ long, something they’d both been waiting for, and it was hard to believe that it was finally happening. 

Stiles pulled his shirt over his head with a grin, enjoying the way Peter’s eyes tracked the movement. He felt  _ sexy _ , something he wasn’t sure that he’d  _ ever _ felt before, all because of the way Peter’s eyes were tracing over his body like he couldn’t look away. It made him feel powerful, and he flashed his eyes at Peter playfully. 

He took a deep breath, building courage, and then he stepped into Peter’s space and lifted the man’s shirt over his head. Letting his hands trail over Peter’s warm skin was amazing, and his stomach began to grow warm as arousal built back up, his cock seemingly unfazed by the orgasm he just had as it began to throb and fill. 

Stiles groaned when their chests pressed together. It was so much better like this, their bare skin touching, and he could feel just how warm Peter was now that there weren’t layers of fabric between them. They kissed, slow and lazy and so deeply that Stiles felt like Peter was trying to breathe him in and make them one. He wouldn’t mind, and he pressed even closer in an attempt to burrow under Peter’s skin and make himself a home there. 

“Why have I never seen this before?” Peter asked, thumbing his bottom lip where the gloss he’d been wearing was no doubt kissed away. Stiles shrugged, dropping his eyes as the mood shifted. “Darling?”

“I wasn’t sure what you would say,” Stiles told him, not taking his hands from where they were wrapped around Peter’s waist. “I...didn’t want to do anything to change how you felt about me.”

“Never,” Peter swore, his eyes flashing. It was the closest they’d ever come to admitting to...whatever it was between them, and Stiles’ heart rate jumped. “Should I still be using he and him?” Peter asked, his voice far gentler than it had been only a moment ago. 

“Y-yeah,” he told him, his heart skipping over itself. “Yeah, I’m still a boy.”

“Alright,” Peter said, and then he was leaning in for another wet kiss.

Stiles pushed Peter back until his knees hit the bed, and then he pushed him again. He swung his leg onto the bed and followed Peter down, crawling forward until he could sit himself over Peter’s thighs and lean down for another kiss. Peter kissed him back readily, humming into the slide of their lips as he trailed his hands up Stiles’ thighs, pressing into the crease of his hip and holding him in place. 

When he pulled back, Peter’s smile was soft, one Stiles knew was saved only for him. “Well, hello there,” Peter said, and Stiles laughed at him, pecking his lips softly.

“Hi, Peter,” he parroted, sitting up and making himself comfortable across the seat that Peter’s thighs made. 

“How are you?” Stiles threw his head back and laughed, running his hands over Peter’s bare stomach, enjoying the way his trail of hair was tickling his palms. 

“Can I suck your dick? Oh my god,  _ please _ can I suck your dick?” Stiles asked, all but bouncing in Peter’s lap as the idea took hold and filled his mind with a familiar scene, a fantasy he’d used to bring himself off more than a couple of times in the past. 

Peter snorted, and he brought Stiles’ hand up to kiss his knuckles. “Darling, we can do whatever you’d like.”

“Fuck yeah,” he said, crawling backwards until he could slide his feet off the bed. He grabbed the ankle of Peter’s jeans, tugging uselessly and not taking his eyes off the way Peter was tenting his pants. “Can you help?” Stiles asked, ignoring how breathless he sounded and tugging harder at his pants.

Peter laughed, and Stiles grinned widely even as Peter unbuttoned his jeans and lifted his hips off the bed. Stiles’ heart was beating quickly, but he wasn’t nervous or scared. He couldn’t have ever imagined his first time being like this, not with some of the stories he’d heard, but he felt so comfortable standing there shirtless with Peter’s eyes on him. 

He pulled Peter’s socks off with his jeans, feeling weird at the thought of leaving them on. It left Peter in only a pair of briefs, the black fabric stretched tightly over his cock, wet where the tip was straining up. Stiles’ mouth went dry when he saw just  _ how much _ was there, and he felt a little bead of insecurity swirl up from his stomach as he dropped to his knees.

“Uh, so, fair warning I’ve never done this before,” Stiles told him, running his thumb along the length of his index finger in a nervous tick. “So I might suck. Well, of course I’m going to  _ suck _ , that’s like, the whole point, but I might not actually be very good at it so sorry in advance and if you hate it tell me to stop and I will and I can leave—well hopefully not  _ leave _ , because that would suck? I’m having a really good time but it’s important that you’re enjoying yourself too so if you’re not enjoying yourself please just let me kno—”

Stiles hadn’t realized Peter moved until he was being pulled into a kiss. He made a muffled noise of protest at being shut up, but he kissed back on instinct, letting his mouth drop open when Peter pressed into the hinge of his jaw to lick into his mouth. It was good, it was so good, and even better was the warmth of Peter’s bare legs when they pressed close against his sides, caging him in with his presence until there was nothing but Peter’s warmth and Peter’s smell and the taste of Peter’s mouth.  

“Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll walk you through it, alright?” Peter asked, his thumb brushing soothingly over Stiles’ cheekbone. Stiles focused on it, on the easy back and forth, back and forth, and he let all the nervous energy that had crawled up his back and settled along his shoulders ease away until his lips were twisting into a smile that ruined their kiss. 

“Open your mouth,” Peter told him gently. Stiles listened easily, dropping his mouth open when Peter’s fingers pressed against his bottom lip. They slipped inside, resting heavily on his tongue. Stiles sucked, wrapping his lips around them and sliding his tongue over the texture that covered the pads of his fingers, moaning to himself as his eyes fluttered shut. “There you go, just like that.”

Peter’s voice was low enough that Stiles hardly noticed him moving. He pulled his fingers back, pulling Stiles’ bottom lip down and opening his mouth. He went to whine, but then the head of Peter’s cock was sliding against his upper lip, smearing a trail of wetness that Stiles’ tongue darted out to taste, savouring the bitter taste of precome. 

Stiles moved forward easily, letting the head slip into his mouth. Peter’s dick was far bigger than two of his fingers, and he groaned loudly at the weight of it on his tongue. 

“You’re doing wonderfully, sweetheart,” Peter told him, and the praise made him feel warm all the way down to his toes. He squirmed, his own erection pressing uncomfortably against his boxers, held down by his jeans. It was all too good to care, and he focused on the warm weight in his mouth and the bitter taste of Peter’s precome leaking onto his tongue and the smooth, silky slide of warm skin when Stiles pushed his tongue under the foreskin. 

“Fuck,” Peter wore, and knowing that he was making the wolf feel good made Stiles feel even better. He was so turned on, all from having Peter in his mouth. 

He pushed deeper, ignoring the pressure of it against his throat, the way it felt like it was filling him up. It was hard to breathe, but he did his best, relaxing his throat as he swallowed around the heavy weight. Peter was mumbling under his breath as Stiles did his best to increase the suction, slowly moving his head back as he dragged his lips and tongue over as much of the warm skin as he could. 

When he pulled off, there was a lewd ‘pop’ that made him grin up at Peter. The man chuckled, kindly, stroking Stiles’ cheek and swiping over his lip to push a string of precome into his mouth. Stiles sucked on it happily, closing his mouth around the digit as he stared up at Peter’s glowing eyes.

“You’re gorgeous on your knees, darling,” Peter told him. The line was vulgar but Stiles still blushed when the words rolled off of Peter’s tongue. He smiled, giving another suck to Peter’s thumb before he pulled away.

“That was way more fun that I was expecting it to be,” Stiles told him, and Peter threw his head back to laugh, his cock bobbing with the movement. Before Stiles could think not to, he leaned forward to lick a stripe up the length, sucking the tip back into his mouth and digging his tongue under the foreskin to rub at the head. 

“Ah,” Peter gasped, tangling his fingers into Stiles’ hair and tugging him off his dick. “You’re a little  _ too _ gorgeous on your knees, and I will not be able to last for much longer if you keep doing that.”

Stiles blinked up at him, his mouth dropping open. “Wait, really?” he asked, and Peter nodded, rubbing the edge of his jaw gently. “Dude, that fucking  _ rocks _ !”

Peter laughed again as he pulled Stiles up and into a kiss that Stiles met him for happily. Peter didn’t seem to care about what Stiles had just finished doing, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, hands threading through Stiles’ hair to pull him even closer until Stiles had to pull away because he was breathless and so hard it physically ached. 

“What would you like to do next, darling?” Peter asked quietly, speaking the words into Stiles’ mouth. 

“Do you—would you wanna fuck me?” he asked, doing his best to ignore the voice in the back of his head that told him no one would ever want to fuck him, let alone someone like Peter. 

Peter snorted, pressing their foreheads together as he said, “Gee, darling, I wonder.” 

He moved his hips forward until his dick hit Stiles’ chin, still just as hard as it’d been when Stiles was blowing him, and he grinned. “Fair point,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip, not at all feeling silly when he caught the heated look in Peter’s eye as he leaned back. “How do you want me?”

“Hands and knees,” Peter told him, trailing his fingers up Stiles’ sides until his hands were under his arms and tugging him up. Stiles smiled at him, pressing a smearing kiss to his jaw as he wiggled out of his pants and underwear. It was mostly so he wouldn’t have to watch Peter’s face as he finished undressing, but he found himself distracted by the way Peter’s stubble caught on his lip as he mouthed at the skin, before he reluctantly pulled back so he could get onto the bed. 

“Ohh, doggy style: predictable but reliable,” Stiles commented, letting out a strangled sounding chuckle when Peter slapped his ass. “Pretty sure spankings are one of those things we should talk about beforehand, babe.” The endearment slipped out, but Stiles figured it was only fair considering all the little names Peter called him. 

The bed shifted when Peter climbed up, and Stiles let out a little squeaky noise when what was about to happen really hit home. He was going to be fucked. By Peter. He was going to be fucked by Peter.  _ Oh my god _ .

“Have you ever touched yourself here?” Peter asked, his voice a low purr as he touched Stiles’ ass, cupping his cheeks in big hands and squeezing firmly. It pulled him back from his thoughts and grounded him in the moment. He shook his head, dropping his arms to the bed so he could pillow his head on his forearms. 

There, that was better. He felt more exposed, knowing that Peter would be able to see  _ everything _ , but he was able to tuck his face into the dark space made by his arms and ignore that Peter was able to see  _ everything _ . He had a horrifying thought that maybe he wasn’t clean down there, or that Peter would be turned off by the fact that he didn’t shave his pubes, or that his hole would be weird and off-putting and Peter wouldn’t want to fuck him anymore—

“I can hear you thinking from here, my love,” Peter told him, and before Stiles was able to freak out over being called  _ my love _ , Peter was swiping his thumb down the crack of his ass and passing over the dry skin of his rim and then even lower, pressing against his perineum and making him moan. 

“Fucking  _ hell _ ,” Stiles gasped, mouthing at his forearm as Peter shifted away. He bit into his skin to stop himself from doing something silly like  _ whining _ at the loss of height along his back, but luckily Peter was back before his self-control failed him and he did something ridiculous like beg for Peter to come back.

“Ready, darling?” Peter asked, smoothing a hand down the length of his spine and resting on the small of his back, keeping him steady. Stiles nodded, but he managed to push out an answer when Peter said he needed to hear it. 

There was a bit of movement that Stiles was too keyed up to listen to. Now that his dick was free, it was swaying heavily between his legs, full and hard even though he’d already come. Peter rubbed over his hole, a steady, almost soothing pressure that stole Stiles’ breath away. It was foreign, something he’d never done to himself, but it felt good. 

He gasped when something cool trickled down his ass, and Stiles moaned loudly when he realized it was lube. Fuck, Peter hadn’t even put anything inside him yet and it felt like he was going to come again.

“Next time I’ll show you how to clean yourself here,” Peter’s fingers stroked over his rim, wet and slippery and so, so good, and Stiles’ brain nearly whited out at a mention of doing this  _ again _ , “and I’m going to taste you, lick you open until you’re  _ begging _ for more, ruin you for anyone else.”

“ _ Peter _ !” The noise was desperate, gasped into the pillowcase as Peter slowly,  _ so fucking slowly _ , pushed his fingers inside and carved himself a place deep within Stiles’ body that was all his. 

Nothing,  _ nothing _ could have prepared Stiles for this. Not the countless times he’d fingered himself in the shower, fingers slippery with soap as he stretched himself open, almost always after spending the day with Peter, researching or just  _ hanging out _ , both things Stiles loved doing if only because he was doing them with Peter.

This—this was  _ nothing _ like that. Peter’s fingers were so much thicker than his own, filling him in a way that Stiles had never managed to fill himself before and it was so much more than he had been expecting.  _ Jesus fuck _ , but it was so good. Peter’s fingers pressed deeper, going on forever and ever, more than Stiles had ever had inside himself, and he felt every single inch of them as they stretched him open.

God, it was almost too much. Stiles keened when Peter pulled his fingers back, feeling every bump and ridge as they slid over his inner walls. They pushed back in, achingly slow, and Stiles wasn’t able to keep in the whine when the flat of Peter’s hand pressed against his ass. 

Stiles lost himself in sensation, letting himself float out of his body as Peter stretched him with his fingers. It was better than anything he’d ever felt and Peter was filling him to the brim, opening him up and more and more when he pressed in a third finger. As Stiles was trying to get accustomed to the stretch, Peter pressed against something that lit up his entire body and had him going taught as an orgasm was literally pushed out of him, his cock leaking as Peter pressed the pads of his fingers against Stiles’ prostate, his entire body shaking as the pleasure took over everything else, his cock throbbing as he came helplessly.

When Stiles finally came down from the high, Peter’s fingers were still gently rubbing his prostate and Stiles was still hard, breathing heavily and shaking uncontrollably, covered in a fine layer of sweat that Peter licked off, a long stripe of his tongue up Stiles’ spine. He mouthed along Stiles’ shoulder as Stiles made a useless noise in the back of his throat. 

When Peter sucked a bruise into his neck, Stiles could do nothing but lie there and take it. He was wrung out and strung taught, his entire body feeling like it had been split open. Peter was still fucking him with his fingers, a slow, steady rhythm that was driving him insane and making his bones feel like useless putty.

He had no idea how long it took before he could think again. When it finally felt like his brain was more than a pile of useless cells, he managed to push himself onto his elbows and fuck himself back onto Peter’s fingers, overwhelmed but still somehow needing more.

“You with me, sweetheart?” Peter asked softly, stroking his hand up and down Stiles’ hip even as he shoved his fingers particularly deep. 

“You literally just killed me and I had to claw myself back from the dead. I feel like a twinkier version of you when you first resurfaced from the depths of hell.”

“I don’t think my nephew killed my via orgasm, but I guess that’s an apt metaphor,” Peter said with a laugh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the small of Stiles’ back. Stiles made a happy noise in the back of his throat, wiggling his ass and laughing happily when Peter kissed his ass cheek, and then the other when Stiles wiggled again. 

“Do you think you can handle more?” Peter asked, and his voice didn’t sound anything other than honestly curious. Stiles was hit with the realization that if he said he wasn’t, that he was done for the night, Peter would be completely okay with stopping right there. 

It made it easy to ask, “Can I be on top?” completely breathless as Peter’s fingers massaged his prostate and made him see fucking  _ stars _ . 

When Peter pulled out his fingers, Stiles  _ did _ whine, thrusting his hips back into nothing and seeking more, hating how  _ empty _ he felt, grasping around nothing. He whined again, louder, but then Peter was right there, laying over his back and wrapping arms around his waist and pulling him up until Stiles was leaning against his chest, breathing heavily when Peter’s cock slid through his crack and pressed against his hole, catching but then slipping away, so,  _ so _ close to where Stiles wanted it.

“Fuck,” he swore, dropping his head to the side so Peter could nose at his neck. He kissed over the spot he’d sucked at earlier, the skin still throbbing gently with what Stiles was  _ sure _ to be a hickey. 

“C’mon, babe, I wanna ride you,” Stiles said, finally pulling away. His knee landed in the wet spot he’d made, and he made a disgusted noise as he stared down at the soiled duvet. “Uh, actually stand up for a sec.”

Stiles was almost surprised when Peter immediately climbed off the bed, and he had to go over and give him a kiss. They were both hard, Peter’s dick a painful looking red that was nearly turning purple at the tip. He gave it a pout and a tug, smiling when Peter gasped into his mouth and grabbed his hips harshly. 

“Love, I’m afraid I’m not going to last long enough to fuck your pretty hole if you keep touching me.” Peter’s voice as all growl, and when Stiles pulled back his eyes were shining blue.

“Seriously?” he asked, not able to keep the obvious surprise out of his voice.

“I think you underestimate how attracted I am to you. Fingering that tight hole of yours was enough to have me on edge, but having you  _ come _ on my fingers nearly did me in. I am not going to last long, if you still want me to fuck you,” Peter told him plainly, as though he wasn’t literally rocking Stiles’ entire world. Sure, he knew Peter was attracted to him somewhat—they flirted and teased but until tonight, it had all been mostly innocent, never going anywhere, all for fun and the comfort it brought them.

But  _ this _ —Peter’s fingers digging into his thighs, his cock throbbing and so red it looked like it hurt, at the edge of coming just because he’d had his fingers up Stiles’ ass—it was more than he ever could have imagined, more than he felt  _ worthy _ of. He pressed in for another kiss, licking into Peter’s mouth and doing his best to put everything he didn’t know how to say into the kiss until they were both breathless. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I want to make you feel good too,” he told him, meaning every word more than he knew how to express. He turned around, deciding to just flip the duvet over, and the second it had settled he was tugging Peter. “Lie down, babe, I wanna ride you.”

“That is a plan I fully endorse,” Peter told him sagely, and Stiles snorted as he pinched his ass. Peter made an interesting noise, and Stiles let himself imagine what exactly it would feel like if he got to do to Peter all the things Peter had done to him. 

When Peter was laid out on the bed—arms behind his head like a douche—Stiles wasted no time in straddling his lap. His dick was still hard despite  _ both orgasms he’d had _ , and he knew he wasn’t going to last long either. He leaned down for a few lazy kisses, breathing through them and trying to get his head into gear.

Even though he was well past the point of freaking out over losing his virginity, this still felt like a big step, since he was about to put an entire dick up his ass. Yep. He was doing that. Okay, Stiles, you fucking got this. Stiles sat back, sitting on Peter’s stomach and staring down at the soft look on his face.

“Dude,” Stiles said slowly, his lips twisting into a smile. “I don’t know if I mentioned, but this is super fucking awesome.”

Peter threw his head back and laughed, and Stiles grabbed his dick, not giving himself even a second to doubt himself before he immediately lined up the tip with where he was still wet and loose. He pressed down, breathing deeply as the head pressed against his rim and didn’t go any further, letting gravity pull him done until finally,  _ finally _ it popped inside and Stiles’ moan was echoed by Peter’s growl, both of them connected in a way Stiles had dreamed about but never imagined possible.

_ Fuck _ . Nothing. He’d never felt anything like this. Not even Peter’s fingers could have prepared him for the way it felt to be so  _ full _ , like Peter was making himself a home in Stiles’ body. He let himself sink the rest of the way down, taking everything Peter had to give him and stretching himself wider than he’d ever been stretched before. 

He took a deep breath, trying to get used to the overwhelming  _ fullness _ as soon as he was fully seated. Stiles could feel Peter inside his entire  _ being _ , dragging against his inner walls and pressing against his prostate, so big that Stiles could  _ taste  _ him. He did his best to breathe, sucking in sharp, haggard breaths that did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.

“Fuck, Stiles, darling, this is, you’re so tight,  _ ugh _ —”

“Peter,” he said laughing. He rolled his hips, groaning when it shifted Peter’s cock and the pressure  _ increased _ . It was too much, he wasn’t going to last, and Peter’s hands were gripping his thighs so tight he’d be left with bruises and it was  _ Peter _ , Peter who was filling him up and fucking him and making him feel better than anything else, and that was maybe the best part, the most overwhelming, the most—

“Stiles, love, you feel amazing, fuck, darling, I love you,” Peter gasped, and that was it. 

“Peter, Peter, I love you, please,  _ Peter _ ,” Stiles whined as he came, dropping himself onto Peter’s cock and groaning when the still-growing knot slipped inside, stretching him until there was no room left, until he was filled to the brim and leaking back out and everything was Peter, Peter,  _ Peter _ . 

When Peter came, flooding Stiles with his warm release and filling him even  _ further _ , Stiles couldn't keep down the sob that slipped past his lips. It was too much, everything was too much, and Stiles felt like he was going to fly out of his skin, held apart only by Peter’s hands and the fingers that were digging into his thighs.

“ _ Mine _ ,” Peter growled, more wolf than man, and Stiles cooed as he pet along the coarse hair of Peter’s furry cheeks, running the pads of his thumbs over the pointed tips of his ears, the soft skin under his glowing eyes. 

“Yours, Peter, I’m yours,” Stiles whispered, rolling his hips and moaning at the way the knot made him feel so  _ full _ , like there was no room inside him for anything that wasn’t Peter and the connection that was shining between them, brought to life by Stiles’ magic. 

Peter surged upwards, his stomach flexing in a way that distracted Stiles so badly he was surprised when Peter kissed him, gentle and claiming and everything he’d ever wanted from him. Stiles laughed into it, giddy with how happy and satisfied and  _ full _ he felt. He pet the hair along Peter’s cheeks, tugging at it softly as their lips slid together in an easy slide. 

After a while Peter fell back onto the bed, spreading his arms out and grinning smugly. Stiles laughed, slapping his chest and then leaving his hand there, feeling the beat of Peter’s heart under his palm. 

“I wasn’t expecting this,” Stiles said, rolling his hips and groaning when his rim caught on the knot and pulled, sending little thrills of pleasure down his back. 

“Yes, well,” Peter started, cutting himself off with a click of his teeth. “Things happen.”

Stiles pretended he didn’t know exactly what had happened. If Peter wasn’t going to talk about it, Stiles wouldn't bring it up. It was probably for the best, if he was being honest. He was leaving, in less than a week, and he...well, he wasn’t even if sure what Peter wanted for this, if anything. Stiles knew what he wanted, now that they’d finally crossed the line they’d been toeing for so long. Nothing would be the same, but would it be for the better? 

“Darling?” Peter asked, running his hands soothingly over Stiles’ thighs. 

“It’s nothing,” he told him, pushing aside the feelings that were swirling in his stomach so he could snuggle down onto Peter’s chest, exhaustion clawing over his skin as all that had happened settled over him, the meaning behind what they had done heavy in his chest. “No more talking,” Stiles said, wiggling until the pressure on his rim wasn’t quite so overwhelming. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, you are?”

“I am.”

“Then sleep well, darling,” Peter told him, his voice softer than it had been the entire night, and Stiles returned the sentiment into Peter’s skin, not trusting how voice to come out anything other than choked. 

* * *

Stiles woke slowly, a gentle rise into consciousness that had his lips twisting into a smile before he was fully awake. He was still lying on Peter’s chest, which was the first thing he noticed because the wolf’s chest hair was sticking up his nose and tickling his face. He scrunched up his nose, nuzzling into the warm skin as he stretched himself out as best as he could, realizing with a low groan that Peter was still  _ inside him _ , albeit soft.

Stiles shifted, and he scrunched up his nose even more when Peter’s soft cock slipped out of his ass, bringing with it a flood of cold come that dripped over his sack and onto the skin of his inner thighs. He grimaced, disgusted at the feeling, and wiggled uselessly.

He was almost amazed that Peter was still sleeping, but more than anything he was overwhelmingly touched. Knowing that Peter trusted him enough to not only fall asleep with him in the room, but to sleep through Stiles rolling off him was—it was a lot. Almost more than Stiles knew what to do with, in the early morning light streaming in from Peter’s large window, only half covered by the drapes. 

Rolling himself out of bed, Stiles did his very best to clench his ass hole closed as he quickly waddled to the bathroom. Sitting over the toilet and pushing out a knot-full of semen was less than pleasant, but Stiles did his best to remember just how good it had felt the night before even as he scrunched up his nose in disgust. 

He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped himself up, figuring the worst of it was over with. Of course he’d have to shower, but more than anything he wanted to get back into bed with Peter and cuddle up. Stiles washed his hands quickly, turning to look for a towel before giving up and shaking them out. 

There was a shirt hung up on the towel rack, and Stiles grabbed it, slipping it over his shoulders. It smelt clean, but when Stiles lifted the collar to his nose, there was the faintest bit of something musky. It got rid of the bite of cold air that was perking up his nipples, and he hummed happily at being in Peter’s clothes.

He had no idea if he had any right to, if he had any right to feel the way he did, but last night had been so amazing, had been better than anything he could have ever imagined, and he knew there was no going back for either of them. He decided then and then, staring at the purple mark on his neck that Peter had left behind, that he wasn’t going to let this be the end of them, not when it was only the beginning. 

Stiles was buttoning Peter’s shirt as he walked back into the room, enjoying the way it hung loosely on him. They were near the same height, but Stiles was definitely leaner, and it fit him loosely. He looked up from where he was buttoning up the sleeve to find Peter watching him, sitting up against his hands. Stiles took a moment to study the way Peter’s shoulders and biceps were flexed, whistling appreciatively at the view before him.

“Morning, babe,” Stiles said with a smile, not bothered by the look Peter was sending him.

“That’s my shirt.”

“Yep, my nipples were cold,” Stiles told him, getting one sleeve buttoned and moving to the other as he walked closer to the bed. He saw the look on Peter’s face and frowned, something ugly twisting inside his chest that he refused to let take root. “If you say that what happened was a mistake, I’m going to neuter you.”

“It was, darling,” Peter said, even though he held out his hand. Stiles looked at it for a quiet moment before giving in. As soon as he slipped his fingers along Peter’s palm, the man was pulling him forward until Stiles had to climb onto the bed and straddle his lap. “Now that I’ve had you, I’m afraid I will not be willing to let you go.”

Stiles leaned forward until their foreheads were resting together, their lips only a breath apart. When he spoke, they caught against one another in a facsimile of a kiss. “Who said you ever had to?”

It wasn’t another  _ I love you _ , but they both heard the words neither of them was saying, and Stiles smiled so widely it ruined the kiss. Neither of them cared.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!


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